


A Doctor's Irony

by Marazura



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Irony, One-Shot, Post-Overwatch, Pre-Recall, Smoking, bad habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marazura/pseuds/Marazura
Summary: Usually it's the doctor's health that is the epitome of perfection. Perhaps for Angela Ziegler this is not entirely the case. She hides her own box of secrets in the form of painful memories and dried tobacco.
Kudos: 3





	A Doctor's Irony

A flick of the thumb, a flame held to the end of a cigarette turning the tobacco a bright red. A few quick puffs of light gray smoke and then a small sigh of relief. An exhausted blonde-haired woman, identified easily as a doctor by the M.D. badge clipped to the breast of a white hospital coat draped over her arm, inhaled an old yet familiar scent while sitting alone in the Botanical Gardens of Los Angeles’ finest hospital, United Medical Center. Angela Ziegler, or Dr. Ziegler formally, had shuffled herself to an isolated bench at the farthest reach of the recreational grounds to clear her mind after an incredibly difficult grant proposal that had taken hours of convincing generous donors to successfully acquire enough funding to continue her research. Her specialty was in Nanotechnology, and one might be inclined to believe that in the Year 2076 there would be little disagreement to the notion of improving upon human lifespans and the expanse of rapid regeneration and recovery from bodily trauma. The renown Dr. Ziegler, having done this many times before, was aware that there were reservations held by conservative donors, many that have limited knowledge to the full extent of the safety precautions that already exist in the testing phase, not just mandatory by UMC’s standards, but even stricter by her own.

Yet, regardless, here she was with a new grant at her disposal. There were preparations to be made, new equipment to order, new staff to hire. It was all Ziegler could do to take a break -- how seldom she took advantage of them -- to breathe something other than sterile yet stiff air. She inhaled deeply, taking in a mixture between White Evening Primrose and dried tobacco, when she caught the distant sound of boots on stone closing in on her perimeter.

Ziegler quickly dropped the bud in a vintage brass pocket ashtray to conceal her habit from the approaching sound, lest anyone know of her habit. She quickly pushed it under her thigh as a figure reared the corner around the base of the tree she sat beneath.

“There you are,” spoke the individual. Ziegler glanced up and spotted them wearing a black shirt tucked into blue jeans, at first unrecognizable until the foreign female removed a pair of sunglasses revealing an udjat tattoo beneath her right eye. “They told me I’d find you here, although I’m sorry for such short notice.”

“Fareeha!” Angela exclaimed. “I thought you were stationed in Alexandria still?”

The Egyptian woman, Fareeha Amari, smiled as she sat down next to Angela. “No, Helix had a person of interest here in the United States that specifically requested for their aid. I volunteered since I heard you had transferred here to California. We didn’t get much time to talk when you were working in Cairo, so I thought we could catch up here instead.”

Up until two and a half months ago, the Swiss blonde had been offering aid to various areas around Cairo, Egypt, that had been impacted by the Omnic Crisis. At one point, much to both of their surprise, they had found each other amid an unexpected strike in Giza where Helix Security International responded, sending Fareeha Amari into battle, and Angela Ziegler made an appearance as an individual emergency medic to the point of attack. They had been completely unaware of each others’ presence until Amari carried one of her downed comrades to the medical tents set up for the immediately injured. With little time to catch up, Amari was sent back off to battle defending the terrain as the aerial strike chief in her Raptora Mark IV, and Ziegler continuously having her hands full with more and more work coming in for her. It didn’t take long for things to settle down but, before Amari had a chance to take leave to visit Ziegler personally, Ziegler left Egypt in a desperate attempt to continue extensive research in Nanotechnology.

In a letter sent to her friend after she left the country, Ziegler wrote,

> _I’m sorry I left so quickly. I know we made plans for coffee but I must return to the United States. A generous hospital in Los Angeles making pivotal plans to expand into my area of expertise has asked for me personally. I cannot keep ignoring my field knowing it is the pioneer to rapid human tissue regeneration, especially after all the work I put in to create Projekt: Walküre. There’s only so long I can sit by knowing everything we both have witnessed, knowing my research might be the solution._

“You still owe me that coffee.” Fareeha chuckled, poking fun at her friend.

Angela grinned. “I haven’t forgotten.” She suddenly winced slightly, shifting uneasily.

Fareeha eyed her curiously. “Ange, are you--” She was cut off suddenly when Angela let out a small yelp and jumped from the bench. A circular brass compass-esque object was left behind and fell to the ground. The button keeping it latched spilled the concealed contents hidden inside, revealing the remnants of a lit bud. She eyed the discrete doctor brushing the back of her thigh in slight pain.

“I, er…” Angela turned a gentle pink blush. She picked up the evidence and cleaned the discarded ashes from the garden. “Sorry.”

“I thought you said you quit?” Fareeha sighed.

Angela mutually sighed and sat down. “I did.”

“What happened?”

Amari, having been friends with Ziegler since their teenage years, knowing each other only through Overwatch and Commander Ana Amari, was aware she had picked up the habit as a stress-coping mechanism. Not that she was much better, of course, as the taste of whiskey was far too tempting to deny. She had Jesse McCree to thank for that ever since she was eighteen -- and she could drink him under the table if she felt inclined to do so.

“Too many children among the casualties,” she replied quietly. “During the midnight strike on the last night, I woke up to the bombing like everyone else did. There was a building collapsing and I narrowly managed to save two children from the rubble. One of them died from complications later, entirely out of my control. I couldn’t do anything in a makeshift set-up. I needed to airlift them to Cairo.”

“All the comms were down that night and there was no way to fly in a helicopter. We couldn’t see a thing.”

“Yeah…” The two of them grew silent, Ziegler shifting her hands uneasily. “You never become acquainted with Death. Only familiar with the thought of its existence.”

“I’m not a doctor, far from it. I claim lives, not necessarily save them… but, for what it’s worth, I understand on a smaller scale.

Angela nodded, then was embraced by Fareeha putting a gentle arm around her. “But you can’t hold yourself personally accountable, even though I know you do. You always have.” She put a hand on Angela’s arm in comfort, then reached into the pocket of Ziegler’s coat to pull out the almost empty pack of cigarettes. “Egyptian,” she decided, reading the Arabic lettering on it. She then flicked it open. “There’s just two left. Pass me your lighter.”

Angela looked at her curiously and presented it to her. It was an old, Swiss lighter that the soldier recognized her carrying around before. The object, according to the story shared to her, was it once belonged to the blonde’s father before his passing during her childhood.

Fareeha took the object carefully and lit both sticks. “Instead of coffee, let’s do something else.”

“And what would that be, Fareeha?”

Fareeha passed her one of the lit cigarettes. “Share this moment with me instead.” Angela nodded in response with a gentle smile. She enjoyed the memorable times with her friends like these, especially with as few as she had. “Oh, and Ange?” Fareeha asked.

“Hm?” replied the doctor, taking a deep drag with her eyes closed, opening only one to glance at her friend.

“Please quit smoking. It’s bad for your health,” she stated, repeating a line only Angela had spoken once before. Especially to Fareeha.


End file.
